The Six Stages of Grief
by SulpiciaDoesntApprove
Summary: Their empire couldn’t even compare to a mere life, a simple lover. It was much more, more than an outsider could ever really comprehend." - How Stefan and Vladimir deal with the loss of their empire.


_**I admit, I have been **__**unfaithful to Team Volturi… but only because Team Vlad & Stef is awesome too! Yes, I can like both.**_

_**And since Dracula One and Dracula Two only get a fraction of the love they deserve, I decided the contest on deviantART (check out the information on my profile) would be the perfect opportunity to finally write something about them.**_

_**I came up with the idea of writing something related to the concept of the five stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance). It is basically just an idea in psychology that everyone who has to deal with a great loss (and the loss of their empire must have been a major loss for Vladimir and Stefan) goes through these five stages.**__** In the end I wrote something "drabble-ish" for every stage, I hope it still makes sense even if they are kind of separate snippets.**_

_**Some minor warnings for references to eye-gouging and Vlad/Stef. Nothing bad.**_

---

The five stages of grief.

They say Humans go through them after every great loss. The message of soon death, the passing away of a loved one.

And their empire couldn't even compare to a mere life, a simple lover.

It was much more, more than an outsider could ever really comprehend.

---

_The first stage of grief. __Denial._

They stood in silence by the smoldering remains of what had been theirs. A castle, a coven, power.

A whole empire.

Burnt, crumbled, blackened to ashes.

"Bastards." Vladimir's voice, that had been so sure and lordly only hours ago, was reduced to a menacing whisper now, but one that could have sent shivers of ice and venom down the strongest man's spine. He spat in the dying coals and the venom in his saliva made the flames well up again, but only for a moment.

"They forgot two," Stefan said darkly, "you and me, Vladimir, we are still standing."

"This isn't over yet," Vladimir hissed, "the Italian scum will regret to have ever challenged us."

And then they took each other's hands.

"Revenge!" They vowed it over and over again, their voices echoing from the surrounding forest.

---

_The second stage of grief. Anger._

The had taken refuge in an old ruin, a former monastery. Oh the irony.

There were nothing but ruins, old, dusty candles and the thrilling feeling of loneliness that becomes so torturous after only a few long, dark days.

One year, two years, ten years.

The solitude was oppressing, and they couldn't pretend any longer that everything would be alright again very soon.

With the solitude came anger.

Stefan took it out on Vladimir.

Small, crescent bite marks all over the fair-haired vampire's neck and back still remind of that stage.

Vladimir took it out on a statue that he had dressed with a shred of black cloth for that purpose.

He spun around and chopped of the head of the statue with the granite edge of his hand. "Die Aro, die. And rot in the deepest pits of hell where you belong!"

And then they started to plot.

---

_The third stage of grief. Bargaining._

Neither of them had ever believed in gods, not even as humans. And there was no power superior to their empire. Or had been, anyway.

And still, Vladimir started to bargain. With some god, the wall or even himself. "A kingdom for an empire. Take Stefan if you want, only give me my empire back."

And as the ironies wanted it, Stefan did the same. "Maybe if I give them Vladimir's head, I'll get my empire back…"

But of course it was still in vain.

One night, they confronted each other. They had both just drained a young girl each, their fragile, twisted fresh bodies barely cold when they dumped them in a dark side alley. The two vampires were wiping off their dirty faces in a simultaneous motion when they started to accuse each other of their betrayal and it was nasty to see that they were both the same.

"You would betray me to get our empire back?" Vladimir grabbed Stefan's hair a little harder than necessary.

"Just like you, just like you, Vladimir," Stefan chuckled, "each other is everything that we have left."

"… so might as well deal with it."

---

_The fourth stage of grief. __Depression._

This was probably the worst.

One year, two years, a hundred years.

Vladimir stared out into the dark forest and never moved. And when he did, it was only to quote a long dead emperor.

Stefan thought it was ridiculous, he felt the need to do something, but he couldn't.

It was as if a dark, leaden power was possessing them, crushing them and making their lost empire, the revenge they had vowed appear so out of reach that even getting up and trying seemed pointless and hopeless.

There was no point in trying, because times had already changed, ruling couldn't, and wouldn't, be the same anymore and what was the point in hoping?

Their plan of revenge was nothing but a sketchy, futile attempt, doomed to fail.

Like their rule, this stage ended though.

---

_The fifth stage of grief. Acceptance._

"Maybe…" Stefan mused.

"… maybe we should just admit…" Vladimir continued.

"… you mean give up?" Stefan asked and his black eyes were blazing in the dark all of a sudden.

"Give up?" Vladimir's face was only inches away from Stefan's and his sharp teeth gleamed silver in the moonlight, just like the fair hair falling in his face. "No, never!"

"Well then," Stefan said and turned to walk down the hill towards the city, "time to get something to drink…"

"… because we need a drink to think." Vladimir was by his side a second later and took his hand almost playfully.

They both chuckled like they were insane. Maybe they were already.

They never really made the stage of acceptance.

---

_The sixth stage of grief is insanity._

Two short, strange men in worn clothes, alone in the world, their menacing voices, gloomy thoughts and papery skin everything they have left of better times.

One year, two years, a thousand years.

"They have nothing left," they can hear an old woman whisper almost pitifully, but her eyes flicker around uneasily as if she secretly felt that they are different, more dangerous than they seem.

Vladimir and Stefan always knew better than listening to those unknowing, ignorant mortals. They are wrong.

_We will gouge their eyes from their sockets, Stefan. _

… _and save their leaders for last…_

… _and we will have our revenge..._

_And what a pleasure it will be, __Vladimir._

Those thoughts, they would have made every mind reader shudder.

_Insane._

And maybe this is what they were meant to be.

After all, only the insane are lucky enough to wait for a hopeless chance to get their lost empire back.

---

_**Meh, I kind of wish I could have proof-read that properly, but I'm sick again so I did what I could…**_


End file.
